


Read Me

by FelixFelicis97



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Again, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Bookstore AU, Fluff, I just felt like writing, M/M, One Shot, Pining Harry, and this happened, bookshop au, harry loves books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 10:18:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FelixFelicis97/pseuds/FelixFelicis97
Summary: Harry had always loved books and it only made sense he would end up working in a bookstore. Everything was perfectly normal. Until the day a beautiful blonde man entered said store.





	Read Me

**Author's Note:**

> Again, my friend gave me a new prompt and...well, it hit a soft spot. So, basically, another one-shot that I really just couldn't stop writing. Please don't judge me.  
> I hope you like it!

Harry had always loved books.  Not like his friend Hermione, whose love for books seemed to rely in a bigger love for knowledge. No, books didn’t call for Harry for the same reason. His love for books relied in the comfort. How a rainy afternoon seemed so much cosier when spent with a soft blanket and a book on his lap, maybe a mug filled with tea to warm the cold fingers that turned every page. He revelled on the stories that made the rest of the world non-existent, stories that allowed him to escape reality once in awhile. Eventually, he came to love the smell of books as well, old or new, as it always reminded him of the many worlds he had lived in and adventures he had in his own couch. Even the feel of a hardcover in his hand and wrinkled pages between his fingers were enough to soothe him.

It was only natural he would end up working in a bookshop. And, for all his friends exasperation, he liked his job. He wouldn’t change it for anything. Even if it meant he passed his days placing books in the right places, after the customers left them all around, or trying to find a book someone didn’t know how to describe and dealing with nasty customers who demanded a discount or cursed him for not having the book they wanted. You would think that Harry James Potter, who always had good grades and finished college filled with other’s expectations, would have wanted more in his life than just spending his days in a bookshop, surrounded by dust and black ink on white paper. But how could he? Everyday he got up, knowing the only thing waiting for him at work was that feeling of comfort, that feeling that he could belong anywhere if he wanted to and maybe help others feel the same.

That’s why, in the day it happened, the dark-haired boy wasn’t expecting anything to be less different than the rest of the year. He woke up, drove to work and started organizing books as soon as he arrived. It was past lunch time when he heard another customer entering the store, the sound automatically ignored by his brain after so many people coming in and out everyday. He simply continued checking the inventory on the computer, writing down anything that seemed unusual in the little notebook by his side. At this time of the day there were barely any customers, since it was still work hours and the other people had to gain their money somehow. Normally, people who visited the shop were in their break so they didn’t spend much time there, only wandering quickly, eyes barely scanning the shelves. So, it was with a little surprise that Harry raised his eyes from the computer screen when someone cleared his throat in front of him, calling his attention. Surprise, however, would be scarce to describe what he felt at the sight that expected him once he turned to help the person.

Grey eyes met his, making his breath halt imperceptibly and Harry found himself unable to stop his eyes from scanning the face that held such an intense mercury gaze. He wasn’t disappointed. The man was  _ gorgeous. _ Completely out of a novel, if not better. Blonde, almost platinum, locks framed high cheek bones. A faint pink painted soft looking lips and the jaw reminded him of a book page. Only sharp enough to cut. Harry didn’t dare to spend much more time assessing the man, but from what he saw with a quick glance at the rest of him, the man was slightly taller than him, thin body with a fitness highlighted by the black suit he was wearing, probably Giorgio Armani if the way he held his head high was anything to go by. It was quite rare to see someone so high-end on the shop. 

Finally shaking himself out of his reverie, he looked at the man’s eyes again, which held a puzzled look.

“Hi.” Harry said, like he hadn’t been enjoying the view just a few seconds ago “Can I help you?”

The former look was replaced by a business one and the man spoke:

“I’m looking for a book.” 

“Well, funnily enough, I gathered as much since you’re in a book shop.” Harry joked before he could stop himself. It didn’t always end up well when he said something before thinking about it.

Oddly, his customer only raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, a judging expression if it wasn’t for the amusement that quickly sparked in his eyes.

“Do they pay you to try to be funny as well? Or was that just a poorly executed attempt?”

Harry blinked rapidly, taken aback by the snarky response. He really ought to keep his mouth shut sometimes. It was his time to clear his throat.

“Hm, no, sorry. What book are you looking for?” He asked, eyes cast down and a light blush staining his cheeks.

He could hear the smirk shaping the blonde man’s lips when he answered.

“Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.”

Harry’s head snapped up, once again staring at the man in disbelief. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. With all his fancy looks, Harry would have said his customer was looking for some book filled with boring economics and tedious statistics. 

“I believe we still have a copy. If you’d follow me, please.” He said, cursing himself for the babbling and staring. He forced himself to relax and started to make his way around the counter to the back of the store.

“Of course.” Came the reply behind him. Somehow, his voice seemed huskier. Harry chose to ignore it. 

Once they arrived at the shelf Harry knew the book was in, he immediately started to run his index fingers through the dozens of covers and titles there, almost caressing them. It was his favorite part of the shop after all. He could feel a pair of grey eyes fixed on him and struggled to say something, anything to diminish the tension between them and the nervousness creeping up on him.

“So, you like English novels?”

“I read them from time to time, among other things. Unfortunately, my last copy was too old and I guessed it was time to get a new one.”

“I never throw away my old books. I can’t.” Harry mused absently, still scanning the shelf. “It makes me feel like-”

“Like you’re throwing away the memory of the first time you read it?” The blonde interrupted.

Harry stopped what he was doing to look at the man, who was now standing beside him, with a slight shocked expression. His mouth opened and closed a few times, not sure what he was supposed to answer. Figuring he probably looked like a fish, he turned back to the job in hand and settled with “Yeah. Exactly. Every book marks me in some way so… I don’t know. It just seems wrong.”

The man made a noncommittal sound, but even if he was going to say something, Harry didn’t give him the chance to. The shorter man turned once again, now holding a book in his hands. He stopped dead in his track, however, surprised by the close proximity of the other. The smell of the spicy cologne started to fog his brain, killing any chance of an eloquent speech. 

Long fingers wrapped around the book still held by his stilled one’s, and Harry finally stepped out of the stupor, taking a step back and releasing the book. Somehow, he found his ability to talk.

“Is- Is there anything more that you need?” He stammered, straightening his glasses absently.

The man seemed to consider him for a moment before holding the book under his arm and talk again.

“I don’t suppose you have Alice in the Wonderland?”

“Hmm… I think we do, yes.” Harry beckoned, while wondering why someone reading Emily Brontë would be looking for a children’s book. 

They went around the store, reaching the children’s area quickly and Harry grabbed the book, immediately passing it to the man behind him. 

“Thank you” 

“Anything more?” Harry asked. He tried to ignore the voice inside him begging the blonde to stay a little longer. What the hell was going on with him today?

“No. I think that’s it.”

They walked in silence back to the counter where Harry, trying to disguise the sudden and completely unreasonable disappointment he felt, started to work mechanically and efficiently. After registering Alice in Wonderland he suddenly remembered:

“Is it a present? Do you want me to wrap it?”

“No, there’s no need.” The man said, waving a hand dismissively although never taking his eyes of Harry.

The green-eyed man, on the other hand, looked confused.

“Is there any problem?” 

“No, no! I just…” He started before clamping his mouth shut.

“Yes?...” The other prodded, both eyebrows raised in an expectant look.

“I… I was just wondering why someone reading Emily Brontë would read Alice in Wonderland.” Harry explained, finally giving him his books in a bag.

The man tilted his head, a scowl shadowing his features while he accepted the bag. 

“Not that is any of your concern, but it’s for my niece. She already knows I’m buying it so there’s really no point in wrapping it.” 

Harry ducked his head, ashamed of how unprofessional he had been since the man had arrived. It wasn’t like him at all. He had always prided himself for being respectful and able to stop thoughts from influencing his actions. It seemed, however, that the handsome man in front of him could cloud his better judgement. It was unsettling. Books could be read and Harry would know what was going on. This blonde, on the other hand, was… unreadable. Surprisingly, it fascinated Harry.

“If that’s all?” He continued, a superior expression now painting his face and an indication of the intention to leave clear in his body language.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” Harry said, no louder than a whisper and still not looking at him.

“My pleasure.” Was the response.

That night, cuddled by his favorite blanket, he found he couldn’t really concentrate in the book on his lap, instead replaying the afternoon's events over and over again, alternating between cursing himself and remembering the man’s features. Not even the protagonist of the novel he was holding was as beautiful.

The next day, after a good night of sleep, Harry got back to normal. Pricing books, helping people and arranging the books was what he loved to do and the bliss that he felt when surrounded by pages filled with different stories was back. Until…

“What’s your name?”

Harry jumped at the proximity of the voice behind him, dropping the books he held in his arms. Reflexively, he crouched and started to collect the books back into his arms, only then realizing… that voice… Someone crouched in front of him and started to help him. When he raised his head, Harry had his fears confirmed.

“Wha- What?” He babbled, yesterday’s lack of eloquence coming back full force.

“Your name. You never told me your name.” The grey-eyed man explained, staring at him expectantly and completely open, a contrast from the coldness of the day before.

“You… hm, you never asked?” It came out sort of a question, Harry still not sure what was happening. He accepted the books handed to him and swiftly got up, the other mirroring his movements.

“Well, I’m asking now.” He smiled, a little shy, but still allowing a brief flash of shining white teeth. Harry wondered how embarrassing would be if he passed out. 

“I’m Harry. Harry Potter.” He eventually managed while placing the books safely in a shelf.

“I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy.” The man said and extended his hand.

It only took Harry a second before he clasped their hands together in a light handshake. He wasn’t nearly prepared for the feeling of it. Long fingers wrapped around his hand, cold but somehow warming him inside. The hand fitted his perfectly, and Harry almost mourned for not believing in destiny. He had no idea how long they stayed like that, holding each other’s hands and looking at the other. Harry didn’t know who pulled back first, but all too soon they were stepping back. Letting go of Harry’s hand, thin fingers slid through his palm, a light caress that sent shivers down his spine.

The black-haired man spoke the first thing that came into his mind. Again. He never learnt from his mistakes.

“I’m sorry, but what are you doing here?”

Draco smirked. “Well, I thought you figured that out yesterday. I came to buy a book, of course.” Then, the smirk morphed into a small sheepish smile, eyes cast down. “And maybe I was a little bit of a jerk yesterday, before I left.” He finished.

To say Harry was surprised would be an euphemism.

“You were a bit but I deserved it. I wasn’t being professional.” He rushed to explain, a blush creeping to his cheeks.

“No, it was fine. I’m just not used to talk about myself. I feel like I’m an open book in those moments.”

“You don’t like people to read you, then.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you read me.”

From that day on, Draco would go to the bookshop everyday, at the same hour as the first one. He would always spend minutes and minutes talking to Harry about everything and nothing at all while the black-haired man stayed behind the counter, listening to everything intently. He talked about his work, his niece, favorite films and foods. He let Harry read him. At first, Harry was still taken aback, afraid to say the wrong things as he had the first time they talked. But eventually Draco broke through all his defences, question after question, smile after smile and touch after touch. Harry knew it was nothing special, only a brush of fingers when handing him the new purchased book or how their shoulders would touch sometimes while he searched through the shelves. He still fell for Draco. Hard. He was funny, a bit (ok, maybe a lot) sarcastic, intelligent and caring. He always had a comeback at the tip of his tongue, but so did Harry and they would spend entire conversations teasing the other while still getting to know each other. Draco only won their contests when he would suddenly say something that was really close to flirting. Or maybe Harry just wanted to believe it was although he never let himself to. He would sputter and change topic or admit defeat. He needed to keep reminding himself that the blonde was only there to buy books and decided, in the meantime, to be nice to him.

It was Thursday when it happened. Harry had been up until 3am reading, each chapter pulling him more into the story than the other. He knew he should be sleeping but he didn’t seem to find the strength to care. Then, his favorite character died. Which meant he continued to read and read, determined to finish the book that same night. In the end, it was 5am when he finally closed the book and his eyes.

Harry was now regretting his decision, the three hours of sleep he got not nearly enough to get him through the day without a several headache and stinging eyes. He was practically oozing off when Draco arrived. 

“Hi there!” Came the loud greeting, making Harry’s head explode in a new wave of pain.

He blinked slowly, his energy not even enough for him to stand up from the bench. He really should have known better. He always needed to sleep more than six hours a day, and even then he took at least a cup of coffee in the morning. He hadn’t have the time today.

Draco must have noticed the bags under his eyes or his lack of energy, because before Harry could say anything, he was already holding his face with a hand, a concerned look in his eyes.

“You look like shit, Harry! Are you ok? Did something happen?” He asked in a rush.

Somehow, the shorter man found the energy to chuckle lightly, shaking his head while rubbing his eyes. Draco’s presence was enough to lighten his day.

“No. Everything’s fine. I’m just a really stupid person.” He assured, still amused.

The blonde didn’t seem convinced at all, scowling at him, an expression Harry had grown used to by now.

“Why does it seem like you haven’t slept then?” He pressured, both hands now in the counter as he leaned to him.

“Because I haven’t. I was reading until late.” He didn’t know why he was telling Draco, but it felt right. “Normally, it wouldn’t be this bad, but I didn’t get the chance to drink my coffee in the morning and my shift only ends at 4pm.”

He considered him for a moment, as if trying to find if it was a lie or if he was telling the truth. He settled on truth.

“How can someone be that stupid?” Draco scolded.

“My favorite character died, ok? Please, have some respect.” Harry said, a smile still playing on his lips.

“So, because your favorite character died you try to kill yourself from tiredness? Can you imagine the alarming mortality rate if everyone was as idiot as you?”

Harry laughed, knowing Draco was right.

“That’s it.” He said abruptly “I’m picking you up at four and taking you out for coffee.”

Without another word, he turned and padded out of the shop leaving behind a dumbfounded but smiling Harry. It took him almost an hour to realize Draco hadn’t bought any book.

When his shift ended almost every fatigue was gone, replaced by nervousness. He was waiting for Draco outside, jacket folded in his arm and bag on his shoulder, balancing softly has Harry shifted his weight from leg to leg. He felt him more than saw him, immediately snapping his head to see the gorgeous man approaching him.

“Ready?” He asked once he neared him, taking the bag from Harry’s shoulder and placing it in his.

“Hey! I can take that!”

Draco dodge the hand that tried to grab the bag and started to walk in front of him. “After your coffee, yes, you can”. He said over his shoulder, not even glancing back.

“You know, it really doesn’t match your suit.” Harry tried once he was able to fall in step with him.

Draco faltered a step and Harry smirked to himself. Straightening up, the blonde continued as if nothing had happened. “It’s a blow in my style that I’m willing to take.” He assured nonchalantly. Harry figured there was nothing he could say that would convince Draco then.

The nearest Starbucks was only a few minutes away and they spent them mostly in silence. When they arrived they found a table and Draco instructed him to sit before asking what he was having. Harry tried to insist he could pay but Draco was having none of it. They both settled by strong cappuccinos. Once Draco was back with the drinks they talked as if they were in the bookshop like a normal day and mercifully, the man didn’t mention Harry’s stupidity again. They somehow started talking about Harry’s university and, later, his choice of work.   

“And how did a man like you, intelligent and full of life, ended up working in that shop?” Draco asked, chin resting in his hand and real curiosity lighting his eyes.

Harry played a little with the spoon inside his half-finished cappuccino, thinking how he could explain something not even his closest friends ever understood. He sighed, not meeting the grey eyes that studied him.

“I love books for as long as I can remember. They always had an important role in my life and shaping me. Sometimes they seemed to be the only thing that could help me get through hard times. It only made sense that I would spend my days working in a place filled with something that brings me so much comfort and happiness.” 

Draco was quiet for a few moments, assessing him or his answer. Harry wasn’t sure. Eventually, he spoke again.

“But why do you love books so much? You talk about them and touch them with such reverence.” 

Stunned by how much he had let on during the last few days, it took him some seconds before he raised his green eyes from the table and smiled easily at the man in front of him.

“I can live in any world when I read. I guess that might be the biggest reason.”

“And what’s your favorite world so far?”

“The one where an handsome man with grey eyes and blonde hair takes me out for coffee.”

If it wasn’t for the soft gasp that followed his words, Harry wouldn’t have even realized that he spoke them. They were supposed to be kept in the solitude of his mind. But they didn’t. And now Draco knew. He didn’t wait to see his reaction. He didn’t wait for the answer. Eyes wide and mouth clamped shut, he gathered his belongings as fast as he could, blurting out an “I’m so sorry” before fleeing. 

Next day, Harry was doing everything in his power to not think how he managed to screw things up so much. His struggles were revealing themselves to be useless, as he already missed Draco and it wasn’t even lunch time. There was no point anyway. He would never show up.

That’s why, a few minutes past midday, Harry didn’t hear the door open or the steps approaching him. He only noticed it when it was too late to hide, which meant he now had a sympathetic smiling Draco looking down at him. 

“Oh, no.” He groaned to himself, hiding his face in his hands. “Please be a dream. My mortification was enough yesterday” 

“Sorry, not a dream, Harry.” He says, chuckling almost soundlessly.

The black-haired man, with no other option but resigning to another moment of embarrassment, sighs heavily before looking up and asking:

“What are you looking for?” 

Harry was about to get up, ready to fetch whatever book the blonde wanted and be done with it, when the response came.

“I think that I found what I was looking for a few days ago, as soon as I entered here.”

“But… you only got Wuthering Heights after you talked to…” His eyes widened, realization coming into him. 

Draco looked at him sheepishly through his eyelashes, not quite being able to meet his green eyes, fingers playing nervously with the hem of his shirt. “Is there anyway I could try and make your new favorite world be one where a really nervous man with grey eyes and blonde hair takes you out for lunch?”.

Harry found, as the next days came, that his new favorite world was any where Draco was next to him. And, he might not be able to read so many books with his time occupied by a certain no-longer-nervous man, but it was ok. Because suddenly, books weren’t the thing that gave him the most comfort. Draco was.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave some kudos and comments on what you think!   
> Thanks for reading <3  
> Also, come and visit me on my tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-nerd-book-reader


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